Daily Thoughts
Here I'll be documenting my inner thoughts on an almost daily basis. As fervently as I may expect no one to ever come across this near filing cabinet, there's always a bright contingency somewhere. And if you so happen to be the one discovering this, then hello! =~ 13 November, 2016 ~= Today has been rather bleak, nonchalant, uneventful. I have applied for several jobs throughout my town and hope desperately to be hired by one of them. I need the money, and have been spending the last few days peering at expensive computer builds---acting as if I could ever truly afford such things. Tomorrow begins yet another tiring, taxing week I certainly don't look forward to. School, to me, has continuously been nothing more than a cleverly concocted charade; a thoroughly fabricated fantasy very few fully wake up from. It isn't that I disdain education or the art of learning---of course I don't. Just the method in which our society constructs the supposedly superior, new, more "globally-aware" youth has bewildered, has strucken a deep nerve with anyone possessing even the slightest whiff of rationality. Again, I'm not claiming to be some revolutionary figure by any means, just I've felt this way my entire life. And really, if you think about it, it all surely does sound SLIGHTLY sensible from a governmental-militaristic view. This repulsive, atrocious, abhorrent system is obstructing my path. I feel compelled to proliferate, to expand and broaden my canvas as thoroughly as I can, yet I cannot progress. The system isn't structured around creativity or individual-expression. In order to survive, you must simply comply with THEIR standards. Even when I'm seemingly coasting off the sharp waves of glory and "academic-success", this sense of urgency, this sense of pervasive, preeminent evil dilutes my thoughts. I still can't seem to find happiness in such achievements, though perhaps that's a child of my own deep-seated, embedded competitive drive. Alas, I shall digress. Too ignorant I may be to make such bold, declarative statements. In the meantime, I must feverishly apply my energy towards acquiring a steady source of currency, with which I will build my own machine. Farewell =~ 14 November, 2016 ~= As per usual, my Monday wasn't anything remotely extraordinary. School came and went. I have yet to hear back from any of the establishments I've applied for. My first Psychology test is tomorrow, and I couldn't be more confident. Seeing as though I've administered one capsule of my daily stimulant, very few coherent words can be mustered out onto this page with ease. I wonder why this is. Tomorrow I'll experiment and go without the stimulant, and observe the ensuing day to see if there's truly any recognizable difference or discrepancy. When under the spell of the drug, I am above it all. I feel this instant rush of megalomania, euphoria, as if I'm intellectually superior to anyone and everyone. I have immense difficulty socializing and cannot properly formulate sentences as instinctively as I typically can. Though this could just be attributed to how purely tired I am tonight; nevertheless, I shall try going about my day without it. My greatest plight right now is sustainability. I fear for my own life and thus frantically wish to situate my own modest means of income, along with acquiring a drivers licence. Nothing else is of greater importance---except perhaps my education, still hanging in limbo it seems. Could I be exaggerating it all, inflating it to be much more intense than it is in actuality? I must incessantly be doubting everything, questioning everything. Am I too narcissistic? There exists no real concrete answer in sight. At least I still have possession of my words and mind. Today's also a surprising departure. My tutor, with whom I've held routine sessions since May 2015, will cease to provide services for us. This comes as a shock, albeit a slight one. In reality, I've began relying less and less on a tutor for months now. It does signify a transition though. I suppose I'll end it here for tonight. Tschüs! =~ 15 November, 2016 ~= Surprisingly, my day today fulfilled my initial expectations. Although I believe myself to have scored quite poorly on a maths test and rather modestly on the following Psychology exam, things weren't as horrific in hindsight. Without a doubt do I feel more sociable, more easygoing when Vyvanse isn't in my system. I've checked out a few good reads I shall buckle down and glance at before knocking off for some shut-eye. I guess I'll cut it short tonight. GUTE NACHT =~ 16 November, 2016 ~= Well, I scored poorly on that maths test and quite modestly on the Psychology exam. I can't remember whether or not I ingested Vyvanse today---I believe I did. While, as predicted, I coped with the habitual symptoms accompanying the drug, I was additionally overwhelmed by a considerably profound epiphany of power, of intellectual strength. My surroundings appear much sharper; all nuances are detected by my seemingly crystal clear mind. No longer does an incessant collision of my myriad thoughts obfuscate the ability to think and meticulously process stimuli. To my astonishment, last night I typed a Facebook post concisely expressing a deep-seated view of the site: all it ever does is elicit tremendous envy and jealousy. Around 19+ people ended up liking the status. I know several, most of whom are ironically popular beyond my wildest dreams. I suppose it's a universal feeling nevertheless. In regards to the maths assessment, I feel indifferent. Part of me harshly admonishes myself for not managing my schedule with pride and studying; another assures that we'll in fact have numerous other chances to surpass our expectations. Geometry is an amazing subject, yet a very simple one when stripped down to its rudiments. The teacher and I have long had a warm relation, as I excelled magnificently during Algebra I (August 2015 - January 2016) under the aegis of him. And as for my Psychology exam, I needn't belittle my abilities here, for I scored a rough B- on the test entirely. But why, how could I allow such critical mistakes to occur? How could I let the bright possibility of a better grade slip right in between my fingers? I simply cannot find a stable study habit. Burying my head in books all day just doesn't appeal to me, but I guess I haven't any other choice. To wrap things up, today was...slightly better in some respects than yesterday. My memory seems to be intensely sharpened under the awesome influence of the stimulant. I'll go without it tomorrow. Gooodbye! Oh and I can distinguish how my daily posts appear with AND without Vyvanse. It seems as though my polemics are noticeably longer and more detailed when under the effects. Let's see if the same can be said 24 hours from now. =~ 19 November, 2016 ~= It looks as though I've forgotten to catalog my thoughts for roughly two days now. Last night was spent desperately trying to doze off on a close friend's sofa. And as for the one preceding it, I must've simply been doing something else---which more than likely wasn't anything at all. All of my day today, on the contrary, consisted of deep, meaningful thinking, as most weekends have the propensity of being. For months, what's continually shifted and in many cases impaired my function has been another person---someone I knew closely and spoke to regularly earlier on this year, before being remarkably blocked in August. While any ordinary, well-rounded person would categorically regard it as nothing beyond some diminutive flirtation, a brief affinity, I thought otherwise. Her and I began communicating through Skype in January, continuing straight through February and most of March. It was turning out to be an increasingly stimulating connection. During our calls, we scrupulously traded insecurities and secrets. Before long, almost inevitably so, feelings began fully budding; only one drawback was existent within the equation to our dismay: I residing in central-U.S, and her in south-western England. An entire body of blue obstructs our path. I had been privy of it's incapability of authentically lasting---and surely did she. Not only did I misconstrue information concerning my legitimate age, I refused to video-chat out of being too insecure and anxious. Never before had someone taken the time to listen, to actually understand, so as such the art of sustainability was entirely foreign to me. Admittedly though, there were countless mishaps I could've circumvented. In the end, I blindly tried pursuing her despite being told romantic sentiments weren't prevalent in our connection. Such lengthy-distanced infatuations have such little potential. As much as I'd love to persist, I'll continue this tomorrow. =~ 24 November, 2016 ~= ...Andd by tomorrow, I meant nearly a week later. Essentially, my mind has so often meandered thousands of miles out to the distant little town in which she resides. Vague recollections of her showing the breathtaking Plymouth Sound will never fleet from my mind. Two weeks ago, shortly before starting this catalog, she contacted me for the first time since the 3rd of August, perhaps even earlier. Our discussion was brief, consisting of warm, friendly remarks. Little does she know, she's one of the chief catalysts of my life right now. As strange as it may sound, today I again administered Vyvanse. Rushed with jubilation, I plan on being as productive as I can today. In school, I gradually am dropping behind in Math, failing Gym, and faring fairly in the other two. Seeing as though our midterm marks will be submitted next week, I'll need to work hastily to improve. My main priorities at this moment consist of: situating a stream of income, looking into internships, solidifying new and old connections with other individuals, researching colleges, and reading, reading, reading! On the topic of higher education, I can't even begin to comprehend where I'll enroll. Ideally I would go to the University of Iowa after perhaps attending community college. After that, I'm clueless. The only fields bearing any appeal to me are Psychology, Journalism, or Biology/Physics. I think I'll conclude it for today =~ 25 November, 2016 ~= Here I am, once again. Just like yesterday, and the day before, today was unbelievably uneventful. Apart from casually, nonchalantly strolling up and purchasing an energetic beverage and water from a nearby gas station, nothing has been accomplished. =~ 27 November, 2016 ~= Progress has been made! At last! Not too sure why I abruptly ended it off the other day. I would guess something else seized my attention. My work for Psychology has largely been finished, though I have yet to fully begin my Math assignments. Consolidating a consistent reading/studying habit is my sole priority really. Although others have been mentioned hitherto, I believe the greatest swath of knowledge is revealed through the rich beauty of text, of books. Nowhere else do I see myself heading. Either tomorrow or Tuesday, a technician will oversee the installation of our newer and quicker internet service. Exercising would also improve my abilities, like cognition and overall health, immensely. Finding a prudent opportunity for such acts, however, can prove to be arduous---or perhaps I'm just stubborn. Ending it short again this time =~ 1 December, 2016 ~= Having my most recent psychology assessment returned to me, I at first was bewildered. Why am I still doing so miserably on these seemingly easy questions? Of course, I possessing the fervent desire to improve overnight, failed to see the opposite ends. Indeed we did fail, but did marginally better than before. This is why we must remain persistent, resilient in our efforts. Also, one year ago today I formally published my finale, my last "plushie" production of any kind, The Third Movie. So unfathomably quick those twelve months flew overhead. With this, I'm confronted with a bout of introspection---have I improved myself in this past year? What goals should we try fulfilling next? During this final month will variations of these revolve around. Am I frightful of what's to come? Without a doubt, yes. But I must acknowledge the ambiguity, for there's just as good of a probability of something magnificent transpiring. =~ 15 December, 2016 ~= Two weeks later, I must confess that not a whole lot has occurred. Increasingly has my musical interest grown, and I do hope for a compact little keyboard for Christmas. From there, I can learn and ambitiously bring my greatest ideas into fruition. My grades have improved, yet we still tip-toe the tightrope. Out of 26 credits needed to fully graduate, I have obtained 23. My goal for the new year is radical: cutting my hair, exploring music further, going full throttle with academics, and so much more. Re-invigoration is the only option.. =~ 17 December, 2016 ~= Day after day does my passion burn more intensely than ever before. As 2016 shrivels and fades into obscurity, I see myself in a rather odd phase at the moment. Not only am I ambitiously, almost haphazardly outlining plans for the near future, I'm at odds with my own environment alone, stuck inside my own paradigm, encumbered forever. =~ 24 December, 2016 ~= Christmas looms before us. With my hair at last shaved off, and a colossal knoll comprised of follicle filament lying motionless on the glossy wooden floor, I take great steps towards the new year---a new volume of my tempestuous life. 2016 has inexorably altered my perception and conceptual comprehension. I've brutally fallen to the bottom of the barrel, reaching the darkest emotional trenches, and I've soared, transcended above everything I had hitherto thought possible. Now, there's still myriad things I didn't get to this year; for starters, I haven't expanded my vocabulary as much as I had hoped, and my physical fitness remains mildly stagnant. However, we have acquired very resourceful information regarding healthy eating, so I do obviously expect to expand on that during 2017. We have proliferated farther in comparison to 2015. I've enveloped myself in the writings of scientists, philosophers, musicians. I've gained a much broader insight into the expansive realm of politics. Before, I didn't so much as bat an eyelid to political articles, but with a turbulent election, my knowledge has grown rapidly. Don't get me wrong, there's a great collection of hardships we have yet to encounter. To say the upcoming twelve months won't be impacting would be a silly falsehood. Especially taking the new presidential administration into consideration, we're in for quite the circus throughout 2017. All in all, we must continue reminding ourselves to tread softly, carefully. =~ 2 January, 2017 ~= Salutations, 2017. =~ 4 January, 2017 ~= Despite my unbelievably bare post two days ago, I assure you, 2017 has had quite the entrance. Tomorrow I will at last return to school after missing yesterday and today. I also rekindled communications, very surprisingly, with the aforementioned girl from across the pond---nothing more or less than a friendship, thankfully. Musically, I'm hastily striving towards expanding my horizons. A distant acquaintance---one bearing the very same name as I---whom I've had loose connections with, and secretly admired, has suddenly molded into what may be my only true, pragmatic method of venturing out into the musical sphere. Forming a closer affinity with him is my dearest, most profound priority at this moment. That's all for today, I suppose. =~ 22 January, 2017 ~= Quite the month this has shaped up to be. With the grandiose entrance of a new head of state still capable of obfuscation and now freely able to bend and twist all three branches as he pleases, throwing all our conventions and any prospect of progress down the tubes along with it, my country couldn't be in a greater state of outright fear and ambiguity. Viewing the inaugural coverage from the relatively safe confines of a Chemistry class in Iowa, I simply refused to face the facts---the brazen reality of it all. Instead I dreamt, whisking myself away to another land, witnessing an alternate platform with a certain senator from Vermont taking the oath. Seldom do I wholly express my take on political substance and concepts. For me, already does there exist innumerable journalists, intellectuals, philosophers, and other think-tanks invigorating the topic in a much grander way than I ever could. Words, predicates, syntax---it simply comes slower to me than spatial thoughts, they always have. Right now it's late, I'm taxed, needing sleep. There's homework due tomorrow morning that I haven't so much as batted an eyelid towards---why? My macabre inquiry holds even myself accountable at times. A meager twenty-sixteen months ago, I was overwhelmingly productive within a short duration. It was liberation. I was liberating myself and in turn seeing the world from an entirely new vantage point. And it just kept getting better and better. Here I am at the gates of 2017. To say I've transformed into a "different person" in these last twenty-some months would be a feeble joke; it just isn't true. I have come a long ways. This world, especially during 2016, has come a long ways. Retracing our steps away from that deviation, why do I refuse to properly work on or really even look at coursework? Other things are capturing my attention and consequently intrigue, like news, politics, science, philosophy---real, tangible subjects that affect the lives of the entire populous. The latter half of 2016 could be remembered as an era of ossification. I hardly did homework, whereupon my marks dipped down to where they hadn't been for some time. Alas, I should likely try making at least some attempt at getting something done... :> =~ 28 January, 2017 ~= My greatest adversary is and will likely continue being myself. Am I simply too demeaning of myself and my propensities---my achievements? If only I held the answer. When you're all alone, seemingly in the vacuous, treacherous expanses of interstellar space, urgently pushing the limits, such answers might as well be hidden. But herein may lie the problem, the troubling realization: solidarity trumping solitude. Two minds fused together will never cease in outdoing a meager one. What I guess I'm trying to express or stress here is my deeply-founded frustration with myself. Severing friendships and persistently refusing to open yourself up to others has harsh, far-reaching implications. Academia surely isn't taming it. If anything, my troubles are exacerbated by such a dreary breeding ground for pseudo-intellectuals---for the MOST part, given there are exceptions prevalent. Amid it all, somehow my mind is yet again whisked away to that tiny, hilly, little seaport situated in lower, south-western England. It appears to be my only safe haven currently, reviving a time of openness and acceptance. Only now, as I peer through our 11-month-old messages, do I uncover some remarks or hidden meanings unbeknownst to me then. Indeed, because of how open I was with her, I keep voraciously, vigorously craving the tremendous splendor of feasting my vision-spheres upon such enlightening compliments and acts of reassurance. Hope is all it ever gifts me. Matter of fact, I may just end it here and take a few peeks at them. Too drained am I to type further. =~ 5 February, 2017 ~= Grüß dich February, or shall I say, "Februar." A few particularly intriguing events have transpired in the last week or so. For one, I've looked more thoroughly at prospective universities, their campuses, admission requirements, tuition---everything, thus narrowing down my choices little by little. Out of the institutions carefully scrutinized, three have stood out: Iowa State University, University of Chicago, University of Illinois, and the antecedently stated University of Iowa. All of these are well recognized nationally and even internationally in some iteration. My only challenge is getting in. ACT or SAT scores largely end up dictating whether you're in or not, as does GPA. This segues straight into my current predicament. Right now am I beginning to approach coursework with more vigor than ever. With the upcoming AP Exam for Psychology in May, I need to up the ante, big time. Scoring an exceptional 4 or 5 on the test will not only raise some professors' eyebrows, it will provide at last a stark, chilling repudiation to all those whom doubted or berated me in the past. It will be a small yet massive step on an unmistakably nebulous path forward. But, if I do not buckle down and put forth the effort, I shouldn't expect anything---it all will be in vain. On a side note, I've started signing up for TAG (Talented and Gifted---such a hilarious, audacious, bemusing, alienating title) RTI sessions during the week. RTI sessions are in essence short, thirty-minute, classes or stations or study-halls open for students on each day excluding Monday. For the longest time, I'd arbitrarily select a class without really inputting any thought as to what it was. Recently though, I chose some TAG sessions. In case I haven't underscored my transparency on the matter, let me reiterate. TAG, in my eyes, is systemically flawed in a way. By surmising a category of students are "gifted and teeming with talent", you're effectively labeling and sectioning off the remaining students which may express themselves in forms polarizing to whatever criterion is being exercised in the selection procedure---which is mainly oriented around one's GPA. In other words, it's idiotic and a little too divisive. And it isn't to say there aren't talented or gifted children existent that so happen to be apart of TAG. Clearly they're out there. But there's also a quite sizable chunk of students---not implying I'm one of them---being secluded. Coming full-circle to the session, it's nothing more than the TAG teacher playing lectures from Great Courses Plus, an online learning program, as if we're being cruelly reminded of the better resources outside our reach. This relates to another interest I've began revisiting lately: science, or more categorically, quantum mechanics. Not too long ago did I happen to see a book pertaining to it in a friend's bedroom. This sparked an renewed sense of curiosity. This friend, who I've mentioned before, is in TAG. I'd say he's fairly intelligent, yet exudes this image of some pampered child feverish in upholding his status as a "geek". He's even got this plaque, the "Future Scientist Award" accompanied by myriad other Star Trek and Doctor Who posters embellishing the room. He's told me he gives presentations, or weaves together these great big projects regarding subjects arousing his own interest---something even I am so effeminately envious of. Could I, remarkably, be jealous of him? Could the ill-fated, preposterous perception that he possesses all which has plagued, filled my lustrous dreams and fueled my most earnest longings---friends, a job, a girlfriend, a loving sanctuary supporting my ambitious pursuits---be the provenance? Likely. You see, this is precisely what drives me. This all meanders down the tributary to my main endeavors: mercilessly proving people who have doubted me false, and competitively outdoing others. If I catch someone reading Shakespeare, I proceed to over-analyse every available modicum of truth about who he was. It's not the wisest mentality, that's for sure, as I obviously can't outdo everyone. But still do I try, almost maniacally so, which in some aspects may not be THAT bad. Again do I seamlessly drift, blissfully, away to Plymouth Sound. I find it impossible to believe that this very time last year, her and I were plausibly both bundled up in blankets, with respective devices at hand, susurrating our most telling vulnerabilities. There's this album, "The Beach Boys Today!" released some 52 years ago, that I had been listening to fanatically at the time---and still do, nearly every day---(February 2016 - March 2016) which I'll always associate with our Skype calls and generally those weeks. Two songs in particular, "Please Let Me Wonder" the one following it, "She Knows Me Too Well", and the crescendo-cascading-into-diminuendo "In the Back of My Mind"---all sounding unbelievably cringe-worthy and old at surface value, but definitely aren't---never fail to get me. The decently-orchestrated instrumentation; the ingenious, Bach-esque poignant vocal harmonies and arrangement, those swelling organs and opulent strings reduce me to tears. It would be a dream to make music remotely close to that. I absolutely did not expect today's post to be this lengthy. I wouldn't be surprised if it were our longest thus far. With that, I shall conclude it here. Bis später! =~ 15 February, 2017 ~= Approximately ten days have elapsed since our outpouring, almost cathartic last post. Three or four days after, we upped our intake of Vyvanse from 30mg to 60. Needless to say, the effects are staggering. Knowing it won't be long before tolerance looms, I've come to savor these days heavily. With an almost renewed focus and scrupulousness, I rise at twilight readier than ever before to take on and overcome any obstruction. But I again mustn't let myself drift too far into outright overconfidence or even narcissism. Stimulants don't make anyone impervious to error, and I oftentimes can't get that. Many fragments of ideas and thoughts profusely gnaw their way through my cranium each day. I wonder, as nearly all of us do, where I'll be in ten years; if I even have the honed intellect to achieve what I so ardently wish to; if that special someone whom understands me, and consequently supplements my efforts will ever come around---standard daydreams and sentiments not limited to anyone. The commonly reoccurring thought of death comes to mind. Death, and really the process of aging itself, constantly pervades me. Moving on to other matters, exercising and the need to regularly partake in it has also infected my thought processes. When not in motion, I keep thinking my brain will atrophy and somehow invite Alzheimer's---quite odd, I know. But it is correct in a sense, is it not? Aerobic exercise greatly strengthens cognition along with the ability to recall information. It could very well be one of the key components in the desire to proliferate and expand my mind. Yet allotting an ideal time for it all proves to be a seemingly unreachable peak in and of itself. In addition to that, music remains one of my chief aspirations at the moment. My main listening-s constitute: The Beatles---the psychedelic "Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite!", "A Day in the Life" paired with the jazzy "When I'm Sixty-Four" are the very first things I play in the car after a terribly long, taxing day; The Beach Boys---"Pet Sounds" changed my life; Frank Zappa, Phil Spector, Vivaldi, Marvin Gaye, Dizzy Gillespie, Edgard Varese, Mozart---namely juddering cello ostinatos in Requiem's "Confutatis", The Magic Flute, the heart-combusting Symphony. 29 in A Major, and virtually any of his piano concertos; Stravinsky, and too many others to name in one go. Regularly do I pound at my own ebony and ivory (one of my favorite duets) as if to whimsically birth or improvise some tuneful, unforgettable, visionary melodic masterpiece right then and there. It has become an addiction. Music and science---as well as virtually every other process in our universe---interweave together so gracefully. As far as my musical goals go, I do hope to start trumpeting lessons ASAP, so as to be at least partially literate for band senior year. Scientist's biographies, and the incredible espoused insight they provide, have seriously benefited and consolidated further my way of life, no contest. In particular, Richard Dawkin's "An Appetite for Wonder" has transfixed my corneas to text in a fashion I never thought possible. To be given an inside glance into how his mind bustles about, analyzing everything with such elegance has most irrevocably influenced me. He too had a quite perplexing adolescence; not fully engaging himself intellectually into zoology or really even academia at all until around his last year of secondary school or first year at Oxford, not reaching his zenith (or the first of many) until the age of 35 with him publishing The Selfish Gene. Now this of course doesn't mean I'm a mini-Dawkins, but it does give some reassurance in a time I so tellingly needed it. To try and wrap everything up, I might as well expound on my crushee (crush, crush-er? crushite?)---not anyone I so happen to be in love with, instead someone who so happens to be smitten for ME, of all people. Now this all commenced a while ago, presumably during Physical Education (October-January). Throughout the block (class), I would really only speak with one other individual, a bearded, plumb little senior. Towards the beginning of the near two hours spent in there, we all partook in the requisite warming-up stretches. Afterwards, we were given time for a brief drink and then could opt between walking about the gymnasium, or engaging in whatever it is they did in the adjacent one. I, with my fellow spectacle-sporting accomplice, chose the former each and every time. Walking laps would gift me the prudent moment to re-calibrate and think. So a short while if not seconds after we'd start out strutting slowly across, the senior's girlfriend cared to join us. Her physique repelled me from the get-go. An even more diminutive, pale, bloated, lispy, cobweb-haired girl who spout her words with such insipidity appeared, to me, to be the last person in this local-galazy cluster anyone would ever consider being even remotely involved with. Of course I refrained from judgement, and simply let it be, pretending to listen to them converse as we orbited the lanky lubricated planks beneath us. Periodically would I discreetly eavesdrop in and see how young lovers brimming with naivete were managing such a fledgling histoire d'amour; let's just say it didn't sound too rosy. Interpreting certain body gestures, fluctuating vocal timbre, and facial convolutions, she seemed manipulative, while on the other hand he seemed to care less about her, as if he unwillingly agreed to sign and bind himself to a contract to please someone---and I'm sure we all know who that "somebody" was. Now, as a counterpoint, I also had recognized fairly early on this mistress of his was in "special education." This was due to my own sister and closest genetic relative (I think, for I again am far from the unbelievable prowess of Dawkins) whom I've known her entire life and cherish lovingly, being apart of the program as well. From there, I could deduce that this indeed may explain her behavior. Weeks later, with a semester inbound dragging us into a host of new courses, I couldn't help but spot her in the very same lunch---Lunch A, the very first group to be served---as I, repeatedly glaring back at me. I would say I knew it immediately, and perhaps I did, but I wouldn't want to perfectly exemplify the biases of hindsight, yanno (AP Psychology reference). Not too long after, she quite incrementally began making hilariously banal, predictable advances. First it was a crumpled up note with blue pen hastily scrabbled on detailing how she wished to either hurt or end her own life. This forthwith ended any possibility, as if any existed hitherto. Second came an almost forceful, crude invitation to lunch, to which I trenchantly replied "I'll surely consider!" Then came the big one. Pleasantly enjoying my luncheon of chicken spheres and celery was I, when she strides right on up with a man I assumed to be a supervisor of some sort, a heart-shaped chocolate box in one palm; a white plush bear embellished with a bow-tie in another. Anyone could complete the event from here onward; regardless, I shall proceed. With these two items, I knew before her lips lifted up and down it was a Valentines "gift" despite my incessant declining of her to the point where anyone else with an even average remedy of sensibility would have taken the hint. These traditions of purchasing fattening cocoa byproducts ornately arranged in some fancy 'lil compartment and giving them to people never fail to arouse my ruthless curiosity and scrutiny---why? There's likely some reason for it. Did she deliberately obtain the candy in order to blackmail me into a relationship? This sounded plausible at first. What did I say? How did I react? I was too nervous to move a single tendon---well, actually I mildly did tremble beneath the table. It was too overwhelming. Never before had anyone, especially of the opposite gender, input any care or gone through the most exiguous aspects to convey an affection of me. I embarrassingly had only ever been privy to the feeling by witnessing it occur to others in reality or through television---or a book. Given I was still practically convalescing over the girl hailing from Plymouth---who I was in entrenched in the slightest synaptic gap between a potential (albeit online) romance and friendship precisely one year earlier, a relationship was something I wanted distance from. And this had been made clear to her before, too, so expecting to secure herself a relationship through this was directly AGAINST my wishes---something I myself had perpetrated countless times before. There I was, shrieking internally, and quickly accepted the items and a brief, unbearably uncomfortable and contrived hug (two, actually, since markedly her "supervisor" thought the first to be incomplete). I then knew what I had just condoned, and it felt horrendous. Looking back though, how ELSE could I or anyone else have responded to such a generous deed? It seemed a very clever maneuver, for someone in special ed. The very next day, she plopped herself down beside me, as I predicted with near accuracy the night before (no hindsight biases here), fetched and gave me yet another note---I wonder why she couldn't have just told me this face-to-face, another one of the many repellents---insinuating we were in a unexpurgated affair, promptly rebuked with a faint yet disciplinary "I've already given you an answer." She quietly gripped her belongings and exited the cafeteria and I haven't seen her since, except for yesterday morning. I do realize she's mentally incapacitated, and I wholly do not intend to berate her on that premise. It's all too scary, and I fear I haven't seen the last of her. Right now, my mind is back wistfully again---an apparition, floating without a care in the world, freed of all the burden and misery---with the accepting, beautiful, scintillating, witty girl from that homely little harbor (or as she would say, "harbour") town with galloping green hills humbled by the Ambrosial Atlantic. There's this other album, Tame Impala's Currents, a trippy rhythmic take on individualism (I think) reminding me of her, and how she instilled in me hope, endurance, listening 'till the very wake of dawn, and even skipped class several times as ramification---whether or not she did this purposefully continues to and forever will perplex me. The final track, "New Person, Same Old Mistakes" sheathes our brief correspondence accurately, in that I repeatedly took her insistence in us not initiating anything for granted and saying "I had changed". It's a testament to how to act should something similar occur in the future. It wakes me up every morning; the very overwhelming thought of us meeting years from now, or really even talking once more---or never again---galvanizes me beyond what any 60mg of Vyvanse can possibly manage to muster. Good heavens. I didn't suspect this would be any more colossal than the prior entry of mine. I've spent over four hours typing this. Already have I thought of subject-matter for my next post :> =~ 16 February, 2017 ~= Quite baffling, the shear immensity of yesterday's tirade. I suppose I needn't feel ashamed; hence this serving as "a medium through which my rather incendiary emotions can travel and be transcribed." My Thursday (today) was softly splendid. Albeit the heightening tolerance is indeed catching up with me. Other than that, things appear to be shaping up moderately-well, I'd say. And by that I mean we're stagnant---not necessarily a feat to be bombastically triumphant over. My first real marker, my first set checkpoint is acquiring a better phone; without one, my capabilities sterilize. Then, a sagacious next step would be searching for nearby establishments seeking new employees, but I'm indifferent. Some can forge a steady equilibrium between work and academia---I can't, or at least can't right now. 2017 needs to be where I turn my fate around. For far too long have I let middle ground suffice. There's surely still a chance of rebounding back. It's all a matter what I desire, and to what lengths I'll trek to retrieve it. =~ 26 February, 2017 ~= February has delivered much more than I could have ever expected. Not only have I at last attained a cellular device (February 18th), but a brand new, glazed Bb trumpet (February 20th) is also now in my possession. Humblingly could I declare these to be minor pivots forward. I feel released from the preeminent yield of an event horizon. My primary focus now shifts towards practicing, steadily learning the trumpet alongside the keyboard I've owned since December. Music flows in and out of nearly every activity I partake in through the day; it's inescapable. Academia is second in my long list of undertakings. With the upcoming AP Psychology Exam on May 1st, 2017, buckling down, revising and studying conscientiously are my only routes. So far, I've done some slight revision coupled with hoarding ruled index cards. My third cause for concern is Algebra II, Chemistry, and German II. Successfully completing and passing through with a sufficiently sufficing grade in these subjects will serve as an evener greater feat, propelling us forward in our scientific trek for knowledge and comprehension. In all honesty, every one of these goals are of equivalent value to me. Every single day is of equal dedication; of equal merit; of equal avail, and summons an equal sum of passionate pursuit. Each hour is precious in my eyes. This then carries me back to Plymouth, or more geographically precise, Saltash. Ever since Snapchat was downloaded on the newly purchased device, I've taken photo after photo of my run-of-the-mill activities---and she actively glances at them. This allows a medium through which I can communicate, notwithstanding it being rather clandestine, directly to her. As such, I guess you could say I experience a euphoric high of that unbearably desirable dopamine as I notice her name appearing in the "viewed" bar. Cutting it off here today. Let's see what specialties await us tomorrow. ~ 15 March 2017 ~ One day's tribulations are another's catalyst for motion. Within the last month I have accomplished a few things, but nothing too opulent sadly. My main focus has been to put my money where my mouth is; to take action, to cease this constant bickering to myself. I think this sudden reservation is necessary, certainly. Only when cowering back in do I begin to see what had previously been overlooked. The world won't wait up. The world could not care less if you're feeling awful or tragically lonely. The world simply persists in its own vein with increasing agility and speed, and if you're behind, you're behind. It's useless to toss accusations about and scapegoat; those are the easiest currents to flow through. This has been one of my more recent shortcomings. I found it easier to cradle my impenetrable ego than brazenly embrace reality and lose it. I've seen myself as entitled, as deserving of recognition and acclaim due to my past---''this is what I consider to be why most people fall short of success.'' Last month, as has been made evident, was fruitful for me. Shuttling through this month, I expected nothing short of the same---not the best expectation. I mean, it isn't that I didn't try or make any effort, it's just not as easy. What do I mean by this is as fervently as I do wish to boldly shatter through to uncharted territory, you can't move mountains in a day. If there's anyone who has made this quite clear to me, it's been my own mother. Day after day, week after week, she's been my sole supporter. There's not a single being I've yet had the privilege of meeting that could come anywhere near her in generosity, in absolute altruism and devotion to her two offspring---perhaps due to her not bearing children until later on in her forties. But oftentimes I'm too demanding, too denigrating of her and her goals. Through my acquisition of psychological information regarding child development, I can conclude---or at least make some conjecture as to why my behavior is this way. To put it simply: monkey see, monkey do. Observing from a young age your father belittling your mother will more than likely influence how you treat her too, to my dismay. I try compensating for this by giving her positive advice and wishing her a pleasant night at work as she diligently grinds to ensure our stable shelter and other necessities. My grades aren't the greatest. Tomorrow we will be given final exams for our first two courses: Algebra II and Chemistry for me. These two subjects are precious. They're by far the most important (behind AP Psychology, and, as you could guess, they're where my lowest grades reside. Why is this? Why am I not excelling? Why am I not getting perfect grades? Well, I'll be the first to admit it: it's mainly my own fault. As soon as I'm home, I drop my books and sink into some SecularTalk or Noam Chomsky marathon. There have been exceptions recently however where I've angrily stormed down to my basement cubicle office to work, until I discovered the plausibility of there being dangerous quantities of Radon gas being emitted. Is this just some intricate method for me to escape my studies? I don't know really. Consistency is crucial. You can have a day of excellence and insight, yet be falling behind or willfully subscribing to the illusion of achievement. For instance, yesterday, March 14th, was a very good day for me. During review in Psychology, my near expertise or at least knowledge rivaled even the most intelligent student, who so happens to be the 6th best student of his entire class. Anyone who would have observed that single period would notice how frantically energetic I was. Upon my arrival home however, I frittered and wasted my time in quite an offhand way (Pink Floyd reference) instead of studying for our Free Response question this afternoon. I inflate petty little things with such an egotisical importance.